


Skinny Fists

by en passant (corinthian)



Series: Faith & Guns [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On faith and relationships.</p><p>The companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2608652">Wicked Girls.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinny Fists

**Author's Note:**

> Like hot breaths between my praying hands  
> could make my fingers glow,  
> like the psalms between my palms are all  
> I'll ever need to know,  
> I count out hymns for hims and hims and hers and hers  
> and hims-for-hearses, turn to face the wind and silence  
> flying sins in words-like-curses.  
> \- Skinny Fists, Christians and Lions

Duo had not expected Trowa Barton to show up at his desk wearing a crucifix around his neck. It was entirely out of character as far as Duo was concerned. Trowa Barton, _most likely_ atheist if not downright nihilist. And yet there it was, hanging down from Trowa’s neck as he leaned over Duo’s desk — and snagged a pen to jot something down on a form.

“Hey!” Duo grabbed for it back but Trowa twirled it in his hand like some kind of expert pen master and it disappeared up his sleeve. “You can’t just go around stealing my extremely rare regulation pens!”

“You can learn to share,” Trowa said, but then he did start to walk away without replacing it. And that had Duo up and once again a hand snaked out to grab for the pen — or, now, Trowa’s sleeve. Trowa was entirely unconcerned and soon Duo felt a soft pressure behind his ear, the pen tucked neatly into his hair. “Thanks.”

“I charge a tax on using my office supplies.”

“Do you, now.” That seemed to amuse him. “Okay, what is it?”

“You gotta answer a question, truthfully. That’s only fair, right?” Duo wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to tell if Trowa was lying. They had spent enough casual time together — on missions, in the office, out to Preventer drinking nights — that he felt reasonably well to be able to spot any _ludicrous_ lies. However, he was also reminded that on several drinking nights he had been treated to Trowa admitting to simply outrageous things with absolutely zero shift in his facial expression. Of course, Duo had also been hammered then, but it was worth remembering.

“Sure.” Trowa agreed, shrugged and crossed his arms looking all of a sudden expectant.

“Where’d you get the new jewelry? Didn’t think you were religious.” Straight and to the point. Duo did wonder what would happen if he asked Trowa something truly revealing. Like his actual feelings on world peace, or maybe to spill a dirty secret about Heero. He knew Trowa and Heero were friends and seemed to enjoy themselves when they thought no one was looking, sharing jokes or whatever.

“Jewelry…?” Trowa looked down, and then lifted the necklace with a finger, as if he had forgotten it was there. “There’s a celebration today, something a Saint’s day? A woman gave it to me, when I handed it back she threw it over my neck.” Duo could easily see that and Trowa, rather than cause a scene had just accepted it. Trowa lifted it off his neck and offered it to Duo. “Here.”

“She must be sweet on you, Tro! You should keep it.” Duo beamed and made no move to accept it.

Trowa shrugged again and then dropped the necklace on Duo’s desk and left.

—

Trowa was gone for the next six months, undercover operation. The necklace stayed on Duo’s desk, he didn’t touch it.

—

“You’re always welcome at the base chapel, you know.”

The newest priest — chaplain — religious consultant — of the Preventer base was a young woman. She had an honest looking smile and broad shoulders. Duo thought she was probably very good at her job, when her job wasn’t coming by his desk and eying the crucifix that Trowa had left behind.

“Yes, it’s open to all members,” Duo agreed. He knew his voice was too pleasant, his words too sarcastic, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to fake it to her. He suspected she wouldn’t appreciate it, anyway.

“You don’t get along with the house of God?” She asked, “Or, has it wronged you in some way?”

“Ever heard of an atheist?”

She gave him a look that Sister Helen used to. It was the kind of all-accepting-but-I-know-you’re-full-of-shit look that made him want to confess. It was designed to make him trust her. He wondered if all religious people cultivated that kind of expression.

“I have, but I also know what someone looks like when they’re struggling with their faith.” She said gently.

“I’m not struggling. I never did once believe in a higher power that’s gonna judge us or save us. I’m not interested in sermons on good behaviour or lectures on Good Samaritans.” His tone kept wavering in and out of contentious. He tried to rein it in, but wasn’t entirely successful. Duo could tell by the way her lips pressed into a line and then into a sort of sad little smile.

“If giving up faith was as easy as being disappointed in it, would it really be faith?” Her fingers pressed to the top of the desk. “The door is always open, if you have need.”

\--

The night Trowa was due back from assignment is the same night that Duo visited the chapel. He didn’t stay long, just knelt for a quick prayer. It wasn’t even a personal prayer, just some childhood memory of his. Hands clasped, on his knees, head bowed and waiting for an answer that never came.

Then his phone went off — he expected it to be Trowa but it was Heero.

"Go home tonight, Duo, he’s not coming home yet."

"What do you mean?"

"Unusual circumstances. The rest is up in the air. He would want you to know."

What the hell did unusual circumstances mean. Heero 'it's 3:45 and 20 seconds in the afternoon' Yuy was more exacting than that. It meant that it was either classified or that no one actually knew.

"You're not jerking me around, right?"

"No. I'll call again when I know more. Go home."

\--

Three days pass before Trowa returned. He surprised Duo in the doorway of their apartment just as Duo was leaving. There was a semi-apologetic smile on Trowa's face, along with a violently purple bruise that was starting to go green and yellow all across the right side of his face, disappearing into his hair.

"Morning." Trowa said, as if he hadn't been gone for half a year.

"What the hell." Duo said and grabbed Trowa's face with both his hands and dug his fingers in, to feel his skin and pull him close. Trowa didn't even wince. "What the hell. Heero didn't call."

Trowa's lips quirk.

"He didn't know I was coming back today. It was kind of a mess." He shrugged. "Going to work or can you play sick for half a day?"

"Dunno, are you playing sick with me? Don't you have reports to write or something?" Duo let go, hooked his fingers into Trowa's belt loops.

"I'll play sick with you if you answer a question for me." Trowa's smile flipped to a smirk.

"Go for it, today's going to blow anyway."

"Are you tired of being roommates, yet?"

Duo's hands slipped away from Trowa's waist. He crossed his arms and then immediately regretted it, knowing it looked defensive. Roommates. Him and Trowa. Which was entirely too accurate. When they had moved in Trowa had -- very up front, very bluntly -- said he didn't really trust Duo, but he liked having him around. And Duo had said, yeah, me too.

"No." He uncrossed his arms.

"Okay. Think any place does delivery breakfast? We don't have anything." Trowa backed down the hall towards the kitchen, before he turned and showed Duo his back.

"I thought you'd be gone longer so I've been dining on the Maxwell specialty."

"Does that mean mooching?"

"It's an _art form_ not simple _mooching_ , thank you very much." Duo followed him into the kitchen. Trowa put on a cup of coffee.

"Three days ago I was headed out and someone thought they could reveal me as a spy." Trowa dug in the refrigerator for cream, but finding none he pulled out an egg and set it on the counter. Their last egg. "The funny thing was, they were completely wrong about who I was working for. Didn't really stop them from trying to splatter my brain across the wall though."

Duo narrowed his eyes.

"About what time was that?"

"Nine or ten? At night."

". . . you know, what do you think the odds are that I go to church for the first time in like a decade and you almost get beheaded." Duo said carefully. He tried to ignore the deep soul shaking shudder he always got during something like this. The kind of mystical belief in there is no coincidence, only faith, that he abhorred. (Because, if there was no coincidence then how could God have done that to him? To the church, to Solo to -- )

"Well, it wasn't the first time I someone almost knocked my face off," Trowa didn't seem to notice Duo's internal conflict. "But I don't know what the odds are for that, I was thinking how lucky I was that he didn't break my neck."

"I knew I shouldn't have gone." Duo muttered, and then said, louder: "As much as I like seeing you dumped on your ass, good to know you came home mostly intact."

Trowa poured himself coffee, and then Duo coffee. He broke an egg into his own, stirring rapidly to prevent it from scrambling.

"Does it matter if you were in church or not?"

"Tro', stop doing that thing with the egg, it's fucking nasty."

"It makes the coffee creamy. Did it matter if you were in church?"

"Are you interrogating me?"

Trowa drank his coffee. It seemed like he wanted to say something but instead he shrugged. "I'm going to spend my half a sick day on the couch, want to join me?"

\--

Sex isn't unusual for them. Sex after a mission, for either of them, is almost expected. Sometimes it's frenetic and desperate, an affirmation that they're still alive. Or when Duo comes home, confirmation that he isn't alone and that all the people he sent to the god of death aren't the people he wants to keep by his side. When Trowa comes home, it's all about finding himself in Duo's skin again and he always, always, whispers: I'm home, at the end.

They don't usually cuddle, though. Trowa likes to shower and do the laundry. Sometimes he organizes things, clearing his mind. Duo likes to cat nap, sprawl on the bed, or couch, or floor, and sometimes he gets the munchies.

The night Trowa came home though, Trowa wrapped his left arm around Duo and didn't get up to shower. He wove his right hand into the first few loops of Duo's braid and cradled his head.

"It was the first time I trusted in someone else." Trowa said.

"What?"

"When I thought he was going to behead me."

Duo carefully reciprocated the embrace. He laughed, a little nervously. "Do you mean like, praying?" He could feel Trowa's small smile, the answering chuckle.

"Yes, like that."

"Who do you pray to?"

". . . this."

"This meaning . . . you don't pray to the god of sex do you?" Duo tried to crack a joke. Trowa does laugh, but his hold on Duo tightened.

"To you. Duo will get me through this." Trowa's voice was muffled, because he kissed the top of Duo's head. "It wasn't even that dangerous, we've been through a lot more."

Duo didn't miss the shift. Trowa said 'me' and then he said 'we'. He didn't say anything.

"Three months is usually when I start switching over." Trowa continued, voice getting softer. "Six was a long time, though I've done longer. I think I'm going to quit."

"Quit -- being a Preventer?" Duo couldn't imagine Trowa as anything else. He knew that the circus had been a temporary reprieve from their war lives but being a Preventer had been his calling. It was, in a way, all of theirs, and maybe someday they'd be able to wean themselves off of adrenaline and violence.

"No, just doing jobs like that. It's dangerous to constantly think about coming home."

Duo extracted himself from Trowa's arms, and pulled Trowa's fingers out of his hair. He sat up and looked down at his _roommate_ , occasional sex partner. "Are you saying you want to settle down with me, Tro?"

Trowa shook his head. "No, I'm saying -- " He cut himself off. "I need a shower."

"Wait -- you can't just start something like that and then go shower." Duo grabbed his wrist. "I'm not saying it's dumb or that I don't want to or anything, but you've really blindsided me here. You're the one who said you didn't trust me."

"I couldn't think of a reason to trust you."

"Did you think of one now?"

"No."

\--

Trowa visited the Preventer chapel by himself. The bruise on his face had faded to simply being a stain on his skin and there wouldn't be any lasting damage. He'd been lucky that he hadn't lost an eye, or as he said to Duo, broken his neck.

"You look lost." The woman who worked there -- well, he didn't really know how that worked -- said.

"I don't come to places like this often."

"Not a believer?"

"Not in god."

She nodded and her hands disappeared into her sleeves. "We're not in the business of converting people here. We work to offer comfort to those who seek it."

"Comfort."

"Some people take comfort in the fact that someone is waiting for them at the end of their life."

"We didn't have something like this, when I was fighting in the war." And not with the mercenaries either. But every military base Trowa had been at had had a chapel, or a priest of some kind. He wondered if it was a luxury to be able to have faith so readily at hand.

"Then what did you have as comfort on the battlefield?" She didn't seem accusatory, or even pitying. He took a moment to study her, unsure of her motive.

"Nothing."

"Do you know what faith is?"

"Belief in something that doesn't exist." It was like luck. There wasn't something that controlled destiny or something that put the odds in your favor. If terrible things happened, they happened. If you ended up having a windfall, that was coincidence. There was no way to stop the world from turning and with that, no way to stop evil from happening. Trowa understood all of those lessons well, but even as he thought them -- thought them almost viciously, as if she could hear his thoughts -- he felt a strange small seed of doubt.

"Close, but not quite. Faith is trusting when you have no reason to trust. If you could prove something, then it isn't faith, it's science. Faith is a lot like love."

"Belief in something that doesn't exist." He said again, softer.

\--

Trowa didn't transfer out of undercover ops. He did request to be but on shorter ventures, but was declined.

\--

Duo was often on raids. The crucifix necklace stayed on his desk, but when he was out on assignment if Trowa was in he would leave other things on Duo's desk too. A cork from a bottle of wine, a book of stamps from Bulgaria, a piece of space glass sanded down to smoothness, a book of matches from a club. That sort of thing. When Duo would return he would put the small trinkets into his desk drawer.

It was summer, and a perfect day, when he got shot breaking down a door. It was a clean through and through, but he bled all over his shirt and jacket and even onto his boots. He squatted behind some boxes and pressed a hand over the hole in his side and had the hilarious thought that he could die there.

It wasn't likely. He'd been hurt far worse before and he was surrounded by allies. It was just remembering that he was mortal all over again.

When he got home that night Trowa was waiting for him. Trowa had ordered out, splurged for Ethiopian and while they ate in silence and Duo had to confess.

"I thought about it, when you told me last time -- when you almost got your face bashed in -- about dying. We never used to think about this shit. I kept thinking, two inches to the right, three inches up, if I was bending down, or if something else, you know? I'd be dead."

"Yeah." Trowa said.

"I was thinking, I could die here and I bet Tro ordered cheap Mexican."

Trowa laughed. 

"I thought today might be rough for you."

"How did you figure?"

"A girl who was sweet on me gave me a hint," Trowa smiled that opaque smile of his, but then he ducked his head and ruined the unreadability of his expression. "So, I thought about you."

"Keeping me in your mind, huh."

"My mind and my heart."

"I did too. I could plug this wound my finger, or a wad of my shirt. Back -- you know, it's a wonder Heero never snapped his leg and bled out from his femoral artery -- back during the war, if this happened back then we'd both be laughing about how stupid that worry is. But instead I thought: God, don't let me die so I can go home to Trowa and his shitty taste in carryout."

"It was delivery."

"Shut up, just let me say it." Duo took a deep breath. Trowa looked up at him. "I trust you."

"Yeah, me too."


End file.
